2015 March

juxtaposed with an unlikely six hour jazz session on a straining static and likely below-the-radar bible-belt FM station and the featureless August midnight blacktop and black backdrop beyond my headlights on route 30 outside of Jonesborough it’s a lonely straight-through stretch from Little Rock to the Texas border just southwest of Hope

even lonely (maybe because of) the jazz stuck in some recess names escape me quiet incessant soft saxbasspianocornettrumpetsnare lowing their mellow walk in my mind’s corner flutter flow flight figure follow satisfied to play and wait sit-in and play to the empty bar save for the one man in the suit and loose tie eyes closed and harmonizing with his thin rocks glass and the sad woman in the midnight blue strapless slow turn and sway and wish heels on the empty dance floor

the jazz stuck as most all things do and the road kept on sunrise caught me somewhere between Hope and the border I read the sign in its lone star largess jazz and dawn aching through